


Only Meat

by Codizene



Category: Dead Cells (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Amputation, Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Cock & Ball Torture, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dreams, Exhaustion, Fear, Gore, Groping, Guro, Internal Monologue, Knifeplay, M/M, Non-Consensual Groping, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Pain, Panic, Rape, Sadism, Sedation, Suicidal Thoughts, Vomiting, Vulnerability, Wishes, comfort??, woundfucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:47:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28805295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Codizene/pseuds/Codizene
Summary: It isn’t even its own body, yet, it feels so violated. It’s not human, but skin is skin.
Kudos: 8





	Only Meat

**Author's Note:**

> AU where the Beheaded has to compromise with the Collector for cells and other things.

It burst through the entrance, diving into the stone surface as the door slammed behind it. It scattered to its feet, pressing its body against the wooden exterior, reassuring the force of the door. It slid down to the floor, arms sprawled at its sides. It slouched, panting like a sick dog, its eye drifting about.

The run had been rough, its weapons were intact besides one of its daggers. With minor injuries and a decent amount of gold, it could buy itself something nice if it wanted to.

A presence looms near, and its view is drawn to a shadow cast on the floor. It already feels the bile stirring up in its body, rolling its “head” inert towards the entity.

 _Collector_.

They both know.

His awful commission without a reward makes it wish it could curse beyond its fingers.

He extends his arm, offering his hand to the sulking being. The idea makes it dreary, it wishes it could decline his offer.

It takes his hand, and tugs its body to stand once more. He takes its body in his arms and tells it to rest, placing it on one of the tables lying in the room. He leaves its field of sight as something strokes its head, he leaves a faint taste of salt.

 _Sweat_. 

It quickly pushes him away, repulsed. He walks around the side of the table as he brushes his hand against its thigh before disappearing behind shelves.

 _The Giant had lied, it wasn’t the king. No! It couldn’t be. A king doesn’t thrive like this! They don't feed off the rotting entrails of corpses. They don't enact thousands of deaths alone. A king would take pride in his government, feast on various meals foreign from his kingdom. People would die for him without a second thought. His death would be final, and his kingdom would give him honor. But it lives without purpose aside from doing his dirty labor_.

A sharp and sudden pain wakes it from its thoughts. It turns to find a syringe injected in its arm, a bitter sense begins to flow from the source. The liquid restores its strength; the feeling feeds into a wish that it could die in spite of him. Beyond its host, but true body. It desires to see his appalling grin fade from his face, and its consciousness finally leave this cursed world. The idea makes it content, and it laughs as a man without a voice would.

It breaks from its dreams again, he pets its back. Their eyes are brief, it quickly buries itself in its knees. This was already too much. It feels the tunic loosen around its chest, its arms are held as the tunic is pulled from its body. It can feel fingers run down its spine, he touches its ribs, finding the center of its chest. He laughs as he withdraws and vanishes behind the shelves again.

It pushes itself off the table and onto the floor. Swiftly on its feet, it scrambles for the Collector’s door. Pulling out its dagger, and sifts into the latch. _Click_. The host’s heart begins to race, _It could keep going!_ The door clicks again, just a little more. It could almost taste the ocean breeze of the ramparts.

It spat out a breath of air, thrown from the door. It slams onto its shoulder, crying another gasp. It looks up, the Collector smiles, setting a crossbow down on a table, approaching it. It cowers backward, _it’s too late_.

It stumbles into a wall, panting. _Dagger. The Dagger!_ _It’s lying by his feet_. Its eye flickers toward the object, telling him that’s what it wants. He picks up the knife, holding it in his hand, teasingly. It freezes, it doesn't have anything else in mind.

He picks it up by its arms and sits down with it in his lap on the floor. It feels like another needle pierces its skin. This medicine was different. It wasn’t sharp or bitter, it was warm and soft.

It felt his arms wrap tight around its chest. It tries to lift his arm off its body, he’s too strong. Its arms were growing heavy, its attempts had no avail.

He holds the side of its chest, noticing the dagger in his other hand. It watches the blade begin to saw into its breast, the knife cuts through with the tissue like a fine meat. He pulls the layer aside, wiping the blood off the dagger with his fingers. Its blood cakes down its torso, cold from the exposure. The blade glides alongside its ribs underneath its flesh with intent. Its breath shook each time the knife emerged as his fingers danced on its bloodied tissue. Its other breast is fondled by his hand before it dives into its skin. The cuts were dirty compared to the first slivers. Bits of flesh hung from each slice. The blade escapes its coarse tissue, _maybe, could still .._

It hears the dagger clink against the stone floor, hands stroking its mutilated chest. He makes it shudder, his fingers pool onto its sternum. He pants on its neck, kissing at its shoulder. A hand drops to its waist, ripping the bolt from its side. It choked, staring at the man in horror. He puts the bolt away, his hands return to its mangled chest.

His hands are tepid compared to its own exposed body, forcing out shaky breaths. 

He kisses it on its shoulder, breathing the words “It’s okay, _it’s okay_ ”. It can’t escape.

The Collector’s hands fell it to its hips, fingering the grooves in its pelvis. They crawl further down its torso, compelling an abrupt gasp. “Don’t worry, It’s an easy fix” he mutters softly, picking up the dagger.

It snaps its head elsewhere, trying to focus on something else. The blade buries itself into the flesh of its shaft, it feels its hot blood pour. The dagger finishes running through its skin, forcing him to laugh, “I’m halfway there”, he kisses the back of its neck. The blade is planted back into its skin, cutting eagerly and erratically into its tissue. _It’s gone_ , it cries to itself.

He tosses away its ruined parts, groping its disfigured crotch. He lays it on its back, straddling him as he pulls down its garment. He smiles at his work, gripping its leg as he brushes the underside of its torso. He traces a line, rolling up and down with the blade before he drags it lightly through its skin. It spits at the instant slit he creates, making him chortle. He runs over the fresh opening with the knife, feeling blood rush from the wound. He lays the dagger to his side, he’s done with it. It could finally wake its fingers, _it’s too late. Again_.

It sobs at the sensation of a warmth slipping beyond its skin and into its body. His size tears the very incision he created. With every push and tug, it loses more of what it could call itself. A sweltering liquid emerges from within, making it retch, and leading it to spew bile. The movement quickly ends before the Collector moves its legs, gently lying down its torn body. He stands, looking down at it. Disgusted with himself. _He’s done. Satisfied._

He leaves its sight, vanishing behind the shelves once more. Letting it lie in the mess of itself. Its garments were soaked in blood and Collector.

Its fingers could start to bend, but the effort would be a waste.

It waits for him to come back, although it already knows he won’t.

Death was something he didn’t agree with. It wanted to see him suffer, see him upset. It could only beg to a higher being, hoping that one day it could see the host’s body die upon him. But he knows when to quit, and leave it alone to die by itself. It could only wish for him to see itself die, and the thought alone makes it happy.

It closes its eye, releasing a shallow breath. Leaving the body of its host, through puddles of bodily fluids, it crawls through a drain and escapes.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to talk, my discord is Codizene#4708


End file.
